BUNCHY WAS NOWHERE in sight when we came out of the funeral home. So maybe the way to get rid of him was to feed him. I dropped Grandma off and continued on to my apartment. I circled the parking lot once, looking between cars, making sure Ramirez wasn't waiting for me.
Rex was running on his wheel when I came in. He stopped and twitched his whiskers at me when I flicked the light on.
“Food!” I said to Rex, showing him the brown grocery bag that always accompanied me home from a dinner at my parents. “Lamb leftovers, mashed potatoes, vegetables, a jar of pickled beets, two bananas, a quarter pound sliced ham, half a loaf of bread, and apple pie.” I broke off a chunk of pie and dropped it into Rex's food dish, and Rex almost fell off his wheel in excitement.
I would have liked a piece of pie, too, but I thought about the little black dress and had a banana instead. I was still hungry after the banana, so I made myself half a ham sandwich. After the sandwich I picked at the lamb. And finally I gave in and ate the pie. Tomorrow morning I'd get up first thing and go for a run. Maybe. No! Definitely! Okay, I knew how to do this. I'd call Ranger and see if he wanted to run with me. Then he'd be over here first thing tomorrow and make me go out and get some exercise.
“Yo,” Ranger said, answering the phone. His voice was husky, and I realized it was late and I'd probably awakened him.
“It's Stephanie. I'm sorry to be calling so late.”
He took a slow breath. “No problem. Last time you called me late at night you were naked and chained to your shower curtain rod. I hope this isn't going to be disappointing.”
That had happened when we'd first started working together and I barely knew him. He'd broken into my apartment and released me with clinical efficiency. I suspected he'd act differently now. The thought of him coming upon me naked and chained now gave me a hot flash.
“Sorry,” I said. “You only get one call like that in a lifetime. This call's about exercise. Um, I could use some.”
“Now?”
“No! In the morning. I want to go running, and I'm looking for a partner.”
“You're not looking for a partner,” Ranger said. “You're looking for an enforcer. You hate to run. You must be worried about getting into that black dress. What did you eat just now? Piece of cake? Candy bar?”
“Everything,” I said. “I just ate everything.”
“You need some self-?control, Babe.”
Boy, that was the truth. “Are you going to run with me, or what?”
“Only if you're serious about getting into shape.”
“I am.”
“You're a terrible liar,” Ranger said. “But since I don't want to have some fat chick working for me, I'll be there at six.”
“I'm not a chick,” I yelled. But he'd already hung up.
Damn.
I SET THE alarm for five-?thirty, but was awake at five and dressed by five-?fifteen. I wasn't all that enthusiastic about running anymore. And I didn't especially care about being on time as a courtesy to Ranger. My fear was that I'd oversleep, and when Ranger broke into my apartment to wake me up, I'd drag him into bed with me.
And then what would I tell Joe? We sort of had an agreement. Except neither of us knew exactly what the agreement meant. In fact, now that I thought about it, maybe we didn't have an agreement at all. Actually, it was more like we were in agreement negotiations.
Besides, I wasn't going to do anything with Ranger because getting involved with Ranger would be the equivalent to sky diving without a parachute. I was temporarily oversexed, but I wasn't any more stupid than usual.
I had a ham sandwich and the rest of the pie for breakfast. I did some stretches. I tweezed my eyebrows. I changed from shorts to sweats. And at six o'clock I was in the lobby, watching Ranger pull into the lot.
“Man,” he said, “you must be serious about running. I didn't expect you to actually be up at this hour. Last time we ran I had to drag you out of bed.”
I was wearing sweats, and I was freezing my butt off, wondering where the hell the sun was. Ranger was wearing a T-?shirt with the sleeves cut out, and he didn't look cold at all. He did a couple hamstring stretches, a couple neck rolls, and began jogging in place.
“You ready?” Ranger asked.
A mile later I pulled up and bent at the waist, trying to suck in some air. My shirt was soaked in sweat and my hair was plastered to my head. “Hold it a minute,” I said. “I have to throw up. Boy, I'm really out of shape.” And maybe I shouldn't have had the ham and pie.
“You aren't going to throw up,” Ranger said. “Keep going.”
“I can't keep going.”